Early hours in the morning..my soul doth gently stir..
Yes I hear You knock my Lord..handle dripping with sweet, sweet myrrh
A healing balm to soothe the soul..warmth stirring through the veins..
Run to the mountains of myrrh my Beloved..let healing bring on the rains
Flee until these shadows pass..do not see the dark in me..
Yet the Light in my soul chases all away..and awakens pure Love for Thee.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem